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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23066014">feeding my flame</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_pendragon/pseuds/arthur_pendragon'>arthur_pendragon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV), 야화첩 | Painter of the Night (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arthur is Seungho, Bottom Merlin (Merlin), Extremely Dubious Consent, Jealous Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Merlin is Nakyum, Nipple Play, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Painter of the Night Fusion, Possibly Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:00:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23066014</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_pendragon/pseuds/arthur_pendragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>There is something — inexplicable about this peasant; this peasant boy with the wide blue eyes that tear up at every little provocation. He has the pale skin of the chronically-underfed, but a lush red mouth, oft bitten. How dare he possess such beauty as a lowborn?</p>
  <p>Still, Arthur Pendragon, lord of the Pendragon clan, would not have noticed him had he not possessed the skilful hands that drew such obscene pictures of men pleasuring each other.</p>
</blockquote>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>306</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>feeding my flame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillupon/gifts">lillupon</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>No previous knowledge of Painter of the Night or the associated Korean culture needed. Please read the tags.</p><p>For Lily, who has great taste in manhwa/manga/fics/anything, and who is an invaluable friend to me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is something — inexplicable about this peasant; this peasant boy with the wide blue eyes that tear up at every little provocation. He has the pale skin of the chronically-underfed, but a lush red mouth, oft bitten. How dare he possess such beauty as a low-born?</p><p>Still, Arthur Pendragon, lord of the Pendragon clan, would not have noticed him had he not possessed the skilful hands that drew such obscene pictures of men pleasuring each other. He would have continued to enjoy his life, amusing himself with lesser noblemen falling all over each other for the chance to have his cock in their mouths — if not for this <em>fucking</em> commoner who dares to call himself Merlin, like the sorcerer from the legends who guided Arthur’s ancestors to glory.</p><p>He sees those eyes: always averted when Arthur bothers to look, but otherwise trained steadfast, embarrassed, on the intimate joining of cock and hole, cock and mouth, mouth and teat; those blushing cheeks, the trembling hands that nevertheless transport the relentless fucking onto parchment.</p><p>Arthur Pendragon sees the tears in Merlin’s eyes as he bars all means of escape. He sees the wild joy on the low-born’s face at the sight of his callous teacher, the man called Lancelot who cares not a whit for the boy, the one who stilled those talented hands before Arthur could seize them. How farcical — is the boy truly brainless? Does he not see the lust for status in Lancelot’s eyes? Arthur believed using Lancelot would ensure a steady flow of paintings from Merlin, but the boy seems interested solely in running circles around his teacher like a pup eager for a treat. Arthur Pendragon cannot help but curl his mouth at the disgusting sight.</p><p>Lancelot du Lac does not deserve this boy.</p><p>Arthur will be the one to own him. He is aware there exists a certain, hidden attraction between himself and the painter; in light of that secret desire, the boy’s pleas and entreaties not to touch him mean nothing. He sees everything about Merlin, after all — so he sees the upright, leaking prick, the shame on Merlin’s face as he welcomes Arthur into himself.</p><p>“Look at the mirror,” he murmurs into the boy’s ear, and watches the dichotomy between gold and black, tan and white. Merlin’s body is blissfully untouched, the front unscarred and beckoning. Such skill he must possess, then, to paint men lost in ecstasy without having experienced it himself — before Arthur, of course.</p><p>The boy keeps his eyes shut and shakes his head, which is all he can do right now, trapped as he is on his knees with Arthur behind him.</p><p>“I said <em>look</em>,” snarls Arthur, and thrusts into Merlin with force. “You will capture this moment in your paintings.”</p><p>When Merlin does not move to obey, Arthur shifts his hands from Merlin’s hips to his chest. With a yelp, the boy’s eyes fly open as Arthur pinches both his nipples, hard enough that it must hurt more than it must feel good. Arthur lacks a preference for having it done to him, but Merlin certainly deserves it, for defying Arthur Pendragon, for having nubs that stand out red-against-white, that beg to be touched.</p><p>“Please,” Merlin whispers, eyes on the mirror, on himself.</p><p>That voice drives Arthur even madder. He does not cease his thrusting into Merlin’s wet hole. “Please, what?” he asks, and licks at Merlin’s ear. For a second his tongue enters; Merlin shudders and clenches around Arthur’s girth. Arthur feels the buds between his fingers grow impossibly harder.</p><p>“Please, please, <em>gently</em>, my lord,” begs Merlin, removing his hands from his knees to his chest, over Arthur’s own. Arthur gazes at Merlin in the glass as the boy — the boy shows him how he would like to be touched, bouncing on Arthur’s cock all the while. “Pluck at them, my lord. Rub circles into them with your thumbs. I would wet them with my tongue. I would enjoy it.”</p><p>“My enjoyment is all that matters here, low-born.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord,” says Merlin, face burning, not daring to shift his gaze away from the mirror. Arthur meets his eyes and grins.</p><p>“How colourful we are. You will have no problem painting us.”</p><p>“Y—yes, sire.”</p><p>Arthur does not mean to care about the boy’s pleasure; yet he finds himself shoving two fingers into the boy’s slack mouth and dragging the wet nails over the boy’s tits.</p><p>“My lord,” cries Merlin, throwing his head back against Arthur’s shoulder. His little prick, hard and leaking, as beautifully red as his mouth, flops up and down in time with Arthur’s thrusts. “My lord feels so good.”</p><p>The praise is simple, nothing Arthur hasn’t heard before. Still it fills his heart with a strange joy.</p><p>“I take care of my things, Merlin, don’t I?” he whispers, biting at Merlin’s earlobe. “Not like your teacher. Your teacher thinks so low of you. He calls you an inveterate pervert. He would not let you continue with your art. He does not understand your need.”</p><p>Tears start dripping, then, from Merlin’s feminine eyes onto his cheeks and then his collarbones. Arthur draws them onto his middle finger and dabs them onto the boy’s teats. The sudden coolness makes Merlin gasp and arch into Arthur’s greedy hands. The tears on Merlin’s chest would taste salty, then sweet. Arthur aches, now, to have his mouth on those beautiful little nubs. </p><p>“You’re mine, now,” he continues, gentling the weeping boy. “Look at yourself. I shall mark your neck with my teeth, and though the bite will fade, you will forever belong to me, and not Lancelot du Lac.”</p><p>“My lord,” cries Merlin, and then climaxes, white splattering all over the mirror, over Arthur’s reflection. The idea that Merlin came at the thought of being owned by Arthur — by <em>Arthur</em>, only Arthur, always Arthur — is so appealing that Arthur cannot help but wrap his arms around Merlin’s waist, bite at his neck, and bury himself deep inside, filling him up with his seed.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Later, Arthur carries a limp, nearly-unconscious Merlin to his bed. Never has he done this for any of his previous fucks, and never, he suspects, will he do it for any future affairs — if there are any save this low-born boy. He suspects there won’t be.</p><p>Setting Merlin down and settling in after, he ducks his head and licks at Merlin’s poor, swollen, abused chest. Merlin mewls.</p><p>“Sire!” he cries out. “They are too tender.”</p><p>“Such a declaration hardly fazes me,” says Arthur, but still he trails his lips away and upwards.</p><p>There is a kiss. Merlin opens willingly for him, and the meeting of their tongues is almost loverly in nature. The peasant boy has mellowed Arthur Pendragon, it seems.</p><p>“Tomorrow,” he breathes into Merlin’s mouth, “you will paint what you saw, and then I shall give the mirror many more scenes for you to draw.”</p><p>“Anything you want, my lord,” says the boy sleepily, curling into himself such that Arthur covers him entirely.</p><p>Arthur stares at the boy in his arms. Grotesque satisfaction consumes him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I would love to know if you enjoyed this story.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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